Snippets
by Gevaudan
Summary: A collection of drabbles and short stories based around the original Torchwood team and focussing on their character traits. More explanation within.
1. Authority: Jack

Season: Any and all, excluding Miracle Day. I don't really have a good handle on that for fic.

Rating: K for the moment, may rise in later instalments.

Disclaimer: Not mine, and as usual not making any money from this.

Author's Note: Well, this is going to be something I add to sporadically, as I find it handy for working on characters. The idea will be to use a word as a prompt, and write it a story/drabble for all 5 characters (Tosh, Owen, Gwen, Ianto and Jack) kind of the same way I did with Seeking Sanctuary. I have lots of ideas for prompt words but am more than happy to consider any and all suggestions and would be really grateful for any of your ideas!

Authority - Jack

Jack exudes authority from every pore.

It's a natural air of command that allows him to control a crime scene even if its populated with the most surly of Cardiff's police constables and have them doing his bidding, albeit grumblingly. He's always possessed it, even back on the Boeshane Peninsula when he was more often than not the ringleader of his mischevious gaggle of friends as they tormented their teachers and family alike with the tricks and elaborate pranks he masterminded. Add to it the imposing swoop of his military greatcoat, and his unwavering grip on his Webley and there are few people who would stand in his way.

It's a talent he's had plenty of opportunity to hone, serving in the military through numerous wars with so many brave young men, and later women, in some of the most terrible times and environments he has experienced. He feels guilty now that he can't remember their names, even those whose hand he held as they died, despite the fact he sees their faces in his sleep. He worries too that one day, his team now who mean so much to him, will join those ranks of nameless faces, and the thought of not being able to recall the details that he loves about them fills him with dread. He can't imagine not being able to remember the way Gwen argues so passionately, Tosh's look of pride when she solves a problem, Owen's sarcastic retorts and Ianto's softly rounded vowels but he knows that if he is to go on living indeterminately, and not go mad, he will eventually have to let some of those details fade. It is the way of the world.

Despite his experiences, he never expected to command Torchwood. Working for them had initially been enforced, but as time passed it became an interesting diversion, a way of reminding himself of the universe beyond the Earth's atmosphere as he waits for the Doctor. By the time a new millennium had rolled around, he'd begun to realise that he cared enough about this tiny, backwater planet's future to fashion a new team. Cardiff, of all the places in the Universe he'd seen, had somehow become home.

They aren't like any other group he's had to command. They don't have that military discipline, instead they are a group of misfits each in a battle with their own personal demons. For the first time, a commanding air isn't enough. To lead Torchwood, for them to accept his authority, he has to earn their respect, earn the right to send them into situations where they will risk their lives for no recognition or reward.

At first he found it difficult, he resented the arguments he had with them and missed the unwavering obedience of his army and air force subordinates . Now though, he wouldn't have it any other way; for the first time in many years he's achieved something he can be proud of. He's earned their respect, won the right to command rather than taking it by staging a con or dazzling people with charm and wit.

He's not sure he believes in destiny, but with all the twists and turns his life has taken he's beginning to think that leading Torchwood is his.


	2. Authority: Owen

Authority – Owen

Its dark all around him, wherever he is and he's dimly aware that it is because his eyes are shut, but judging by the ache lancing its way through his head he probably doesn't want to open them any time soon. There's a burble of sound around him, a low murmur of confused voices that he should probably be able to recognise but that task requires too much energy for him right now. He's also dimly aware that someone is holding his hand, running their thumb soothingly across his knuckles but he can't bring himself to care enough about what's happened to him to open his eyes and find out.

Just as he's about to succumb to the encroaching darkness and lose himself in oblivion a strident voice cuts through his stupor. It too is familiar but instead of mumbling softly on the edge of his awareness it cuts through the haze, demanding his unwilling attention.

"Ianto," the voice is stern, it will take no arguments, "Ianto, open your eyes."

He doesn't want to, he's safe in the oblivious dark, and past experience has taught him that leaving it only leads to more pain. But the voice is insistent, and try as his might, he can't ignore the command for too long.

"Dammit Ianto, open your fucking eyes."

The soft voices are mumbling a protest now, and he's grateful. They don't mind him staying here, it's only the irritating shouty one that seems intent on making him suffer. The irritating one seems more familiar now, he's always annoying, but it's only here in the dark that Owen is so bossy.

"Ianto, I know you can hear me," again a mumbling of protest, followed by the Londoner's strident tones, "No Jack, I won't leave him alone. He's got a concussion, and I need to know how scrambled his brains are," there's a change in tone, and he can picture the mocking smirk that accompanies the next comment, "Its not like you've got a lot to spare is it Teaboy? Now open your damn eyes!"

He can't resist it any longer. He's vaguely aware that normally he and Owen will argue over most things – whether or not to open the Rift, what to have for lunch, the colour of the sky, but here in the dark, Owen will accept no argument, won't take no for an answer, and that is what makes him such a superb doctor. Not that Ianto will ever tell him that.

Eventually, he cracks open his eyelids, wincing as the fluorescent lighting of the Hub sends shards of agony into his brain.

"That's it," Owen sounds relieved, and begins checking his awareness , shining lights in his eyes, making him follow the finger and numerous other tests that sound, and no doubt look ridiculous. Yet, he follows the instruction without complaint, because in the infirmary, if not anywhere else, Owen is the boss.


	3. Authority: Gwen

When Jack's away, she discovers for herself that leading Torchwood is something akin to herding cats. That is if cats swore and shot each other when they disagreed over something. To be fair, the shooting had been over a big something and in all likelihood Ianto was right to do it. Nonetheless, Gwen had never expected "Ianto shot Owen" to be a merely mildly surprising aspect of an altogether more unusual day. Nor did she ever imagine that her reaction in such a situation would be to make the shooter a cup of coffee, say "It's alright pet, these things happen," and genuinely mean it. For a long time after Jack's gone, and Owen after forfeits the responsibility of making any decisions, she wonders how an earth she's going to exert any kind of authority or leadership over the remaining three Torchwood members.

Police leadership courses taught her that when leading a team she should listen to the opinion of the experts before calmly coming to a decisive course of action. Sadly she couldn't remember any seminars covering what to when circumstances made this impossible. Namely:

· None of the experts have a clue about what is going on as it's so tangled up in alien technology that they can't even begin to unravel it

· The relevant expert is unconscious/ drugged/ possessed/ abducted / otherwise unavailable

· Two of the experts are having an extremely vocal disagreement across the boardroom table while been physically restrained from each other by herself and Ianto

Nor can she use the stick motivation her parents employed. They all know that even in Jack's absence she lacks the authority to enforce any punishment that has meaning - unless of course she can get Ianto onside to withhold caffeine privileges. The idea of suspending any of them, worse retconning them, is laughable when they're already so short-handed and they all, especially Owen, know that far too well. Before long, "What're you going to do, retcon me?" becomes his favourite retort.

When it comes to reward based motivation, they've all seen, suffered and sacrificed too much for her to be able to promise win the over with the promise of some cheap treat. However, the team, she can't call them her team, they are undeniably still loyal to Jack, are all here to do one thing. They want to make a difference , to - if necessary - be the last line of defence between the Earth and the monsters under the bed, and that is her leverage. If she can convince them that someone will benefit, that people can sleep safer at night, even if those people aren't them, then they'll follow her, as one, to the ends of the earth.

That scares her to death; that her choices balance on a knife edge with the team in danger on one side, and innocent citizens, citizens like Rhys, on the other. It takes a long time for her to reconcile that being in danger, is where the team choose to be.

For a long time after Jack's gone, and Owen after forfeits the responsibility of making any decisions, she wonders how an earth she's going to exert any kind of authority or leadership over the remaining three Torchwood members.

The answer is, that she isn't.

But she can try to present them with a reason for doing something, a motivational glue that holds them all together, pulling in the same direction, and for now, until their leader gets back, that will do.


End file.
